Of Hatred & Love
by claireska
Summary: She didn't expect this to be an easy case. Trying to crack the hard shell of Jax Teller was going to be complicated in every way possible. But she had to try. Hopefully, she can get him to open up before he drives himself to the grave with his hatred. Jax/OC
1. Chapter 1

I stood behind the one-way mirror, my hazel eyes staring at the complete lack of emotion on Jax Teller's face as he sat at the interrogation table by himself, his cuffed wrists resting in his lap, his eyes staring blankly at the metal table top. I knew he was going to be a hard nut to crack. I've worked with people in all different forms, from teenagers who just didn't know better and serial killers who had gone off the deep end. But, I will say this. The hardest type of people to crack open are anyone that belongs to a club. You could pry their mouth open and take out every tooth from their jaw and they still wouldn't mutter a word. The loyalty they had to their club or brotherhood was the strongest bond to come across and it sure as hell made my job harder than necessary.

The door behind me opened and closed and I could hear high heels click-clack against the white marble tile. I quickly side glanced to my right, noticing Patterson standing next to me, staring past the one-way glass like I just was. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head back, eyes still glued to the man, with a small smirk on her dark chocolate stained lips.

"You know this is going to be a tough cookie, right, Ms. Cadigan?" she asked, her voice thick with condescendence. I knew that many criminals didn't like her, but I was working with the police and I wasn't even the biggest fan.

I continued to stare at the blonde haired man and sucked the corner of my bottom lip in with my teeth, grazing the soft flesh with my front teeth. I wasn't sure if honesty would be the best policy or what with him. For him being a President, which I've never encountered, I would have to try every process I knew. Might even have to call a few old friends from college to see about their opinions.

I sighed heavily, my shoulders moving up and down with the process, and I unlatched my teeth from my lip.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I know."

* * *

><p>I opened the door, expecting him to look up from the table but he did no such thing. He didn't even flinch, nor blink a lash. Yet, I did notice his jaw clench for just a moment before relaxing. I could already foretell this was going to be interesting.<p>

I closed the door softly behind me and took two steps forward before taking a seat in the chair opposite him. I rested my manilla folder with his track record on the table, leaving it closed. My arms raised and my hands folded together to softly rest on the table. Yet again, he just stared straight down, not even acknowledging my precense.

"Jax Teller," I paused in hopes of some type of movement, but got none. "My name is Clara Cadigan. I'll be working with you on this case." Nothing. Complete silence. I cleared my throat since it suddenly became dry. The one thing that irritated me more than anything was being ignored completely. If he could even look at me, I'd feel at least as though he was listening. "You know, this isn't going to get any easier if you don't talk." He glanced up for a slight second, his icy blue orbs glaring into mine. I could feel my chest pinch with slight fear. Of course, I knew of Jax's history. He outlived his father, his best friend, his step father, and now, horribly, his wife. I couldn't ever imagine going through life with that, nor imagine what retaliation my emotions would feel. I figured I would be filled with hatred and emptiness. But when he looked at me, I could tell there was so much more.

His eyes slowly lowered back down to the table, his jaw clenching against for a second. I sat there in a silence for a few more moments, my annoyance slowly starting to bubble.

"Is there anything specifically you'd like to talk about?" I asked. Still silence, still no movement. I stood up and leaned forward on the table, my fingers wrapped around the sides of the tabletop to support my weight. "Jax, I'm going to be having a meeting with you everyday until the judge decides to let you go. I understand that you're grieving and don't want to talk to anybody because you have so much hatred in your heart, but being silent isn't going to help anybody, especially yourself. If you won't even talk about the case, that's fine. You need to talk to somebody before you drive yourself to the grave." It was then that he glanced up again, his eyes just slightly softer, before I grabbed my manilla folder and walked out of the interrogation room.


	2. Chapter 2

With my glasses on, sitting alongside the couch with my knees bent towards my chest and Jax Teller's manila folder spread open upon my legs, my eyes continuously scanned over this record, shocked at the amount of allegations, but little convictions. I expected someone from his nature to give me around ten pages to read through, but it was all on one.

I flipped the page, a picture of his father paperclipped to the corner of the page with big, red lettering in the center stamped 'DECEASED'. He had the same features as Jax. The strong jaw line, the blue eyes, but he had long, lightly grayed hair that probably once was blonde. My eyes lowered to the date of his passing, noting it was back in 1993. From what I've been told, that was the transformation that Clay Morror came into the picture of being President of the Sons. The reason for death was death by motor vehicle accident.

I flipped onto the next page to see Gemma Teller-Marrow. His mother. As I scanned quickly, I took note of the few charges she had against her, but nothing serious. I could tell she went through a scraps with a couple of people.

I flipped again to the page of Clarence "Clay" Marrow. Deceased.

Harry "Opie" Winston. Deceased.

Tara Knowles. Deceased. I stopped at her page. She had nothing on her record. Completely clean. She was a registered nurse. Outlived by her son, Thomas and son-in-law, Abel. Her reason for death was stabbed in the back of the skull by a meat fork repeatedly.

It seemed as though this man was surrounded by death. In the pit of my stomach, I could feel some sort of sorrow for him. But then I remembered I had a job to do. I closed the manila folder and set it on the coffee table in front of my couch. God damn, did I have some work to do.

* * *

><p>I set the manilla folder on the table and took my seat across from Jax again. Instead of looking down at the table when I made my entrance, he actually set his gaze upon me. I took that as a small step forward, but I wasn't about to keep my hopes high.<p>

"Good morning, Mr. Teller," I greeted with a small smile as I opened up the manila folder, his record and mug shot being the first paper to be revealed. I was greeted with silence for a few moments before I heard him clear his throat. I looked up from my folder, his eyes locked onto my face.

"Jax," he replied, his voice low and wispy. "Mr. Teller's a bit too... official." I had to hide my smile from my lips. Second time in and he spoke a sentence. I was slightly proud, I had to admit.

"Well... Jax, do you know why I've been appointed to you?" He leaned forward, set his folded hands on the metallic table, a smirk on his face as he pointed his head towards the table before lifting up his head, his tongue snaking between his lips to moisten them quickly. His eyebrow quirked as his smirk appeared again.

"I'm assuming to get some type of intel on my club." I presumed he would say that. I also presumed his tone of protection on the words, "my club". At those words, his voice dropped slightly, his pupils narrowed, his fists clenching even tighter together. Now, it was my turn to smirk.

"I wouldn't say I need intel on your club specifically, but I am here to talk to you... specifically to you." His smirk fell, his brow raised even further.

"Why me, doc?" he asked.

"Because I feel, after your history of unfortunate events, that going out into the world for you would be drastic, possibly catastrophic to Charming," I replied. He scoffed as if this was nothing but a joke. "Mr. Teller, I have no idea what you've gone through, but I can tell you that I can see what you're feeling in your eyes." His smirk instantly disappeared into a straight, thin line. His jaw tensed slightly, his nostrils began to flare as his attention was on me.

"You don't know shit," he growled. I sighed heavily, closing my eyes to adjust my thoughts before opening my eyes again.

"I can tell you that, going through your folder, you've lost every person close to you except your mother and your children. Yes, Jax, I will admit I don't know shit about what you're going through. I couldn't imagine it in a million years. But I can tell you that just by your eyes, I can see hatred. A lot of it. I don't know if it's towards society or people you know, but I can tell you that if we were able to let you step out of this facility, you'd be right back in here within a month and Charming would need a lot more body bags than the police department even has," I replied. "If you want to go out those doors and not step into this place again and be able to see your children grow up, I'm your ticket to do so. All I ask in exchange to give you your slip is for you to talk. I can give ten shits about the club. I don't even think Charming gives a shit about the club anymore. We just want to make sure that this town doesn't look like a god damned taped off crime scene by the end of the year." I could tell he was listening to everything I was saying, slowly taking it in and bouncing it around in his head. His eyes were on the table, more specifically looking at his hand with his bruised knuckles. I knew it was from knocking a guy's teeth out from a week back. As I studied him more, his jaw slowly relaxed, his blue eyes clouded with thought as his pointer finger and thumb seemed to dance across each other in a circle.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked. I lifted up the first few pages in the manila folder and grabbed a piece of paper that was filled with typed lettering and four separate lines on the bottom that were meant to be signed and dated. I had already signed the doctor's spaces and date.

I set the piece of paper down on the table, flipped it to face him, and softly pushed it across the table. His fingers caught it, his eyes scanning over the piece of documentation.

"Patient-doctor confidentiality contract. If we were to meet, it wouldn't be in this room. You'd be driven to my own private office, where there's no cameras, no two-way mirrors." He quickly glanced over at the two-way set to his right before looking down at the paper again. "Everything is strictly between you and me. Only reason why anyone would know what we talked about is if I felt there was no progress. Even then, I'd only be able to say if you were a threat to society or yourself. Details would be kept to myself. As long as you agree to going to sessions and sign that document, you're a patient of mine and will be treated like any normal Joe Smith that walks into my office."

"Basically, I sign this, agree to talk to you about my sad-life story bullshit, and then we're done?" he asked, his eyes rising from the paper.

"I have to be able to tell if there's progress or not. If there's no progress, you'll be here your full sentence. If I see progress, I'll be talking to the judge and pulling some favors."

"Why is this even being offered to me?" he asked, releasing the paper and leaning back in his chair, his hands disappearing under the table to rest on his lap. His head was tipped back, his eyes full of concern and inquisition.

"Some people in this town actually have a heart and feel bad for you. They don't think you deserve to spend the rest of your life in prison after outliving the majority of your family, including your wife. Others suspect your club will start some type of trouble in town if their president is kept in here for a prolonged amount of time. Either that or if you get transferred, cops will get killed over trying to get you free."

"What do you think?"

"I think you deserve a second chance. Maybe, if you agree to these sessions, you can change your life around and not be surrounded by death and anger."


End file.
